An Interesting Thanksgiving
by beaute-ephemere
Summary: Hermione decides to get her revenge on Ron... Dhr/ Written for Houses Competition R10


**A/N: House : Slytherin**

 **Category : Short**

 **Prompt : Thanksgiving**

 **Word Count : 1083**

.oOo.

 _ **April 21st, 2003**_

Lying in bed next to her boyfriend, playing with a strand of his platinum blonde hair, Hermione Granger realises she loved him. She wonders how that happened, how the Muggleborn Gryffindor fell for the Slytherin Prince. _It started on Thanksgiving,_ she thinks. _What an interesting Thanksgiving that was._

.oOo.

 _ **November 26th, 2002**_

Hermione Granger was having a bad day. The fools in her department at work had been more incompetent than usual, and they had given her a headache so awful she was forced to go home early.

 _Oh well,_ she told herself, _at least I'll be able to spend some time with Ron._

However, those dreams were shattered the second she walked in the door, finding Ron making out with a topless Lavender Brown. A lot of shouting ensued, and Hermione walked out, livid and ravenous for revenge. Technically, she and Ron weren't _together_ , but everyone knew it was just a matter of time. They lived in the same flat, for Merlin's sake!

That was when she hatched a plan, and that plan was why she ended up on Draco Malfoy's doorstep at two in the morning. He almost hadn't opened the door, and when he did, he threatened to slam it shut again, but Hermione was so insistent he gave her 30 seconds to explain herself. Being Hermione Granger, she'd already prepared for that eventuality and written a 30 second summary of her plan. Luckily it was compelling enough for Draco to laugh and tell her that he'd help, if only to spite the Weasel, but that he doubted a _Gryffindor_ could pull something so deceitful off. She grinned and reminded him she had _almost_ been a Hatstall.

.oOo.

 _ **November 27th, 2002**_

At 7 o'clock sharp, Draco received an owl from Hermione telling him to meet her in Diagon Alley within the hour. Fifteen minutes later they were inside Madam Malkin's, and while Draco was sure they would spend hours trying on inadequate dress after inadequate dress, they only stopped to pick up an order Hermione had put in the night before.

"I want to see," Draco said, his voice reminiscent of a petulant child.

"You'll see tomorrow," Hermione replied. "I have good taste, you know."

Madam Malkin smiled knowingly. "She does, Mr. Malfoy, she does."

Once they left, Hermione asked Draco if he'd come back to her place for coffee. At his shocked look, she hastily explained that the plan would work better if they weren't complete strangers. He had chuckled at how uncomfortable she seemed, but he agreed, and they spent the rest of the morning making rather pleasant conversation over surprisingly good coffee.

"Well, I best be off then," Draco said after a few hours.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow, I guess," Hermione replied.

"Ah yes, tomorrow. The day when your not-so-carefully detailed plan fails."

"It won't fail, and you know it. It's a _very_ good plan."

"Indeed. What was it again? Ah - yes, you plan to take _me,_ Slytherin Death-Eater, as your plus-one to the Ministry British-American Unity Thanksgiving Dinner and then we pretend to be madly in love, so as to get revenge on your cheating scum of a 'll work out just splendid."

Hermione grinned. "It'll work, trust me!"

Draco groaned. "I don't. I really, really don't."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Too late for second thoughts. You agreed to the plan, now leave it to me."

"Fine. Bye, Granger. "

Hermione smirked. "Bye, Malfoy!" she exclaimed, smiling innocently at him. Draco shot her a scowl as he walked away, muttering something about annoying Gryffindors.

.oOo _ **.**_

 _ **November 28th, 2002 - Thanksgiving**_

Draco Malfoy couldn't quite believe he was standing in Hermione Granger's living room, waiting for her to be ready for the Thanksgiving dinner _he_ was taking her to. Howe ver, what he really couldn't believe was his eyes when he saw the aforementioned woman.

Her hair hung in loose curls around her face and she wore makeup so light it was barely noticeable. Dressed in a flowing ball gown that went down to her ankles, perfectly highlighting her curves, she was a vision. However, he had expected it to be green, silver, or perhaps orange, for the season. It wasn't.

"Purple?" he asked.

Hermione smirked. "Lavender."

Draco's lips quirked into a smirk that mirrored hers. "Subtle. I like it. You scrub up well, Granger."

"That's Hermione, for tonight, remember?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, and with that they left. After all, they had a party to go to.

Draco looped his arm around Hermione's waist. She was startled, but she sunk into him, grateful for the comfort. Despite going over the plan a thousand times in her head, Hermione was suddenly terrified everything would go wrong. "Showtime," he whispered in her ear, before pushing the door open.

Camera shutters and audible gasps echoed throughout the room, but Hermione and Draco ignored them, making their way to their seats. The pair laughed and talked and soon everyone had resumed their conversations. Then, Draco caught sight of Ron Weasley, whose purple complexion did _not_ compliment his hair. Then he saw him whisper something that looked a lot like "Death-Eater whore" to Lavender Brown, and he suddenly felt enraged on Hermione's behalf.

That was when he placed a hand on her cheek and whispered "Trust me," before leaning in to kiss her. She had been surprised, but she quickly returned the kiss, and they kept it going longer than was perhaps necessary, though neither of them mentioned that when they finally broke apart.

After that, Ron had sulked and not said much until the food arrived, at which point he didn't say much either, but he did eat a lot, if somewhat glumly. Hermione and Draco, on the other hand, talked all throughout dinner, enjoying the food and the holiday atmosphere.

Hours later, once dessert was finished and people were beginning to go home, Draco and Hermione decided to leave. Looping her arm through his, Hermione leant over to whisper something in Draco's ear. "My feet are killing me."

Draco chuckled. "You've been sitting down the whole evening."

"Yes, but I'm significantly heavier than when we sat down and so now, my feet hurt."

Draco shook his head in mock disapproval. "Shouldn't have eaten all that turkey."

"I have no regrets. I do however, want to be in bed, in my cosy pyjamas."

"Mhm - sounds nice. Me too."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "You want to be in my bed?"

Draco grinned innocently. "Wearing pyjamas, of course."


End file.
